Caught: Kiriwar Route
by XiuRong
Summary: After assaulting Akira in a back alley, impulsively, Kiriwar decides to keep him for himself, bored with the mundanity of his job. However, the more time the Executioner spends with the cold, guarded Akira, the more he changes, and his initial interest begins to turn into something unfamiliar (essentially creating a nonexistent route for Kiriwar off the game's Executioner Bad End).
1. The Executioner

_Gotcha, little lady._

Akira jolted awake in a half-lit room. Cold. Sunlight hit half the bed, so he shifted towards the warmth. He let out a long exhale he seemed to have held onto for a long time. His mind was still clouded with sleep, but it was unusual for his case not to be immediately aware on waking up. In fact, the next thing he noticed was the aching in his body and a sharp pain in his lower abdomen as he made any attempt to move.

His hand went to his neck, feeling a scabbed-over wound at the side.

 _Your blood's sweet… overflowing in my mouth._

He flinched at the sudden recollection, and in that moment, his awareness returned to him as his memories replayed back in reverse everything else.

 _"It would be a waste not to play with you… since I caught you and all."_

He recalled struggling, desperately trying to escape the Executioner's grip. But not only did he have no freedom to move, even if he'd broken away, he had nowhere to hide and no means to outrun.

 _Did you think you could run away?_

 _Good. Fight harder._

Right before he was knocked out, he thought the Executioner might have nearly broken his neck. He'd been hit so hard he passed out.

He curled his body in closer, reflexively, defensively. It was a nightmare. And soon the reasons behind every ache were resolved in the details of his recollections. They were a stark contrast to the sensation of warm sunlight. It snapped him back into the present moment. He lifted his head to a spacious room. Where was he now?

His eyes focused onto unfamiliar surroundings, a large, well-lit room. He sat on a soft, wide bed, and other furnishings included a dresser, table, and a lamp. There were two doors and one large glass window with open curtains that indicated it was likely past late afternoon, if night were not soon approaching.

Where…?

When he shifted, he ground down on his jaw, willing himself to ignore his own body's complaints. In one motion, he moved from a sitting position off the edge of the bed to an upright standing one. Then immediately regretted it. He knew he was in bad shape, but not only did the combination of his fatigue and stress weigh him down, but the pain in lower abdomen was really killing him. And the exact reason he didn't even want to acknowledge.

From this angle, he could better see the view outside the window and recognized it in an instant, dread filling his chest. This was Arbitro's mansion. He had a very clear memory of entering through the gate and through the front door. Back when Keisuke was determined to face the dangers of Igura with him. And face the dangers of Igura Akira did. Running straight into the Executioners themselves.

His eyes caught onto dark bruises at his arms. From how the rest of his body felt, he knew there were more. His arms – from the way he was initially restrained. His shoulders – from constant impact against the concrete wall. His abdomen and legs – from the hard pressure as the Executioner held him down.

A hand went to his neck. No tags. No. He needed those in order to challenge Il-re.

He turned around to face the room, his eyes searching. Where could they be? On a table? In a drawer? His eyes moved to the doors on the opposite side. In a different room?

He made steady progress and was relieved to find that the more he moved, the less he felt his injuries. Not that they completely went away. When he reached the table beside the bed, he noticed something he didn't see when he first woke up. On it was a glass of something that wasn't water. Clouded. And beside that was a sandwich, complete with lettuce, tomatoes, and a slice of some kind of meat inside. Nothing else on top of the table.

He was tempted to ignore it, but there was no other reason for them to be placed there. Waking up in an unknown room. In it, food from some unknown source. They were meant for him to eat. Not that he was going to, even if he were hungry. Questionable situations tended to take away his appetite. Since he'd come to Toshima, he hadn't eaten much, and surely, he wasn't going to eat now.

He moved his search from the bedside to the dresser. Noting that sunlight was starting to fade now, he moved with slightly more urgency.

Scanning the top of the dresser, he found no Igura tags there either. Instead, his eyes caught onto something familiar. His own clothes. They were there, his jacket, shirt, pants. Even his knife in its leather sheath sat beside them. His hands immediately went to the clothes he was wearing at the moment. Even the material felt new to him – a dark long-sleeved shirt and shorts, albeit a bit looser on him. He stood there, confused and unsure how to interpret this new reveal of information.

Then he dismissed it. Just for the moment.

First and foremost, his priority was to find his tags. Without further delay, his hands moved to the topmost drawer and pulled it open. More clothes. And this time, he couldn't dismiss the fact. He recognized them. He'd seen someone wearing this type of outfit out on the streets of Toshima.

The Executioner.

From the last memory he had while conscious until now, it clicked.

 _What a waste._

The Executioner knocked him out with the intent of taking him back to the mansion with him. The large room he'd woken up in belonged to Kiriwar.

In that moment, Akira shut the drawer. For a moment, he was unsure what to do. The tags were important. But his next thought was that escaping took priority – even though where he was exactly was or how he would leave the mansion were unknown to him.

Without paying attention to his complaining body, he made his way to the door farthest from him, guessing that it was the one that led outside the room. Was it locked?

Before that thought could completely form in his mind, the knob he was reaching for turned, and the door opened in one swift motion.

Before him stood a tall, imposing figure. Metal pipe at his side, dark green jacket, scar on his forehead – Kiriwar.

First, those brutal features were taken aback. The Executioner didn't expect a welcoming right as he walked into his room. Then, a grin pulled at the side of his mouth as their eyes met.

"So you're awake, princess?"

"..."

Akira slowly released his grip on the knob, eyes not leaving the Executioner's, unable to say a word. The sudden shock stopped him even from reflexively stepping back. Silence filled the space where he should've answered, but he didn't allow himself to break eye contact.

After the longest second, Kiriwar pushed his hand against the edge of the door and stepped into the room. The metal pipe in his other hand knocked against the entrance with a dull clank, and the wooden floor creaked under his heavy boots. Akira stepped back to make room, but Kiriwar leaned down, following him closely.

"Hey. Slept well? You were knocked out for a while." The door closed behind him. "For two days. Almost thought I killed you back there. Good to see you're still alive and kickin'."

Akira had nothing to say to that. Every fiber in his body wanted him to run, despite its current state of incapability. He snapped back to his senses when the Executioner moved forward again, his metal pipe hitting the ground with a dull clank. A hand closed around Akira's wrist, and the other moved to the sleeve, pushing it up to his elbow. He didn't flinch, his eyes immediately caught onto the contusion on the underside of his forearm. It looked worse than it felt, uneven, dark discoloration spreading from his wrist up his forearm and to light grazes behind his elbow and above it.

An unreadable expression crossed the Executioner's face. He reached for Akira's other arm and pulled the sleeve up there. It was if his injuries were mirrored from either side of his body. Kiriwar's eyes lingered there for a moment then moved up to Akira's neck. Then to his face. Judging something. Akira couldn't tell what was going in his head.

"Seems I was pretty rough with you." Kiriwar tilted his head. His eyes flickered to meet Akira's. "But it could've been worse."

Too close for comfort. But he was neither going to step back nor drop his gaze. It would be a sign that he was intimidated, and as much as possible he didn't want to let Kiriwar in on that fear. After another moment without words, the Executioner finally straightened up, leaving him some breathing room.

With surprising, set seriosity on his face, Kiriwar "There ain't much that can be done 'bout those bruises. Best to leave them alone."

Subconsciously, Akira's hand moved to feel the tender area on his arm. That was right. Neither bandaging nor any form of medicine could do much to remedy his injuries. What unsettled him however was the fact the Executioner was paying any kind of attention to his recovery. Not only that, Kiriwar had begun to move around the room as if Akira's very presence were completely natural. Taking off his jacket, shoes, setting aside his weapon, pulling out a towel from a drawer.

"Gonna knock out for the night. But before that, I gotta shower." Kiriwar pulled out a second towel then turned to him with a mischievous grin. "Wanna join me?"

Akira nearly physically recoiled.

"No."

At the abrupt answer, Kiriwar laughed. "Ah, I'm hurt. First thing I hear you say and it's a _no_."

He approached again, reminding Akira of the contrasting difference between their statures. He stood no chance, face to face like this.

"I get it, princess. Must be pretty tired too. You aren't in the best shape right now."

The Executioner leaned down again, eyes locking with eyes, grip locking onto arms. This time Akira stepped back. And kept backing away as Kiriwar followed. His eyes briefly flicked to the door across the room a few times, his mind skirting around the idea of escaping. This detail didn't escape Kiriwar's eyes.

"Wouldn't think 'bout it too much if I were you." He spoke. "Unless you wanna run into 'Bitro."

No. He didn't want to do that.

Akira's eyes refocused back on Kiriwar's, just as they reached the edge of the bed. Though not forcefully, Kiriwar firmly guided Akira down to sit on the bed. Then, finally he released him. For a second too long, as if he were contemplating something, he looked down at Akira. These silences were painful.

"Best rest for now, princess."

What was this situation? Despite the intimidation and fear, he was completely thrown for a loop. The way the Executioner was acting and the absurdity of the situation, it was like what had been done to him in the alley was an entirely detached event. He didn't imagine it. That was for sure. He didn't know what would happen when he encountered the Executioner again, but for sure, this was far from what he expected.

"What is this?" Akira spoke, narrowing his eyes.

Kiriwar blinked, surprised at Akira's sharp tone. He met that unwavering glare evenly.

"I don't know what you mean." He tilted his head and grinned. "Wow. You sure are somethin'. No one ever mouths off like that. Not unless they're on somethin'. Or an idiot. …Not drugged up on Line, are you?"

"No."

A curt answer. Kiriwar hummed, amused.

"Is that so?" He closed the distance between them, leaning down so their noses were mere centimeters away. He paused, in thought, trying to best explain himself. "You're mine, now. I took you back with me."

That sadistic grin widened. "So we'd have some more fun."

When the Executioner reached out, instinctively, Akira retreated. A hand landed on the side of neck, inciting a sharp ache that turned his expression into pain. He wanted to flinch, yet at the same time, he wasn't going to let up on what little semblance of strength he had. There was that unreadable expression again, as he studied the injured area.

"Damn, this looks bad. Must've hit you too hard back there." He tilted his head. "Only meant to knock you out. Not scar you."

His eyes flickered back to Akira's face. "So damn pretty. Would be a waste if I…"

Akira knocked that hand aside, staring back defiantly. _Don't touch me._ The message was clear, even if it wasn't spoken aloud.

"Aw." Kiriwar spoke, making a mock disappointed expression. "That hurts."

There was a silence between them, and it looked as if the Executioner were contemplating something. He stared intently at Akira. Then, he straightened up again, looking aside at the other door in the room – the one that didn't lead into the hall.

"Gonna take a shower now. I'm damn tired." He finally said. "Better knock out too, princess."

Then with a smirk and a slightly more dangerous tone. "Unless you wanna stay up all night."

Taking the prompt seriously, Akira sat down on the bed, and with an amused grin, Kiriwar turned for the bathroom. When the door shut behind him, Akira's body also let out a physical sigh of relief. He laid himself down, scooting on the farthest side of the bed, at the edge. He didn't want to be awake by the time the Executioner came back out. He closed his eyes, glad that his injured body rid itself of its tendency for restlessness.

* * *

By the time Kiriwar left the bathroom, the guy was already fast asleep. He stepped out, rubbing the towel over short wet hair. Well, it wasn't like he actually intended to do anything to the guy even if he had still been awake. He didn't want to kill him after all. It had been two entire days of unconsciousness just before. He even played with the idea that he'd done some permanent damage when he knocked him out in the alley. Maybe it was too hard. He should be nicer, if he wanted to keep this new guy alive. Too slight. And fragile. For someone that's survived playing Igura to this point, he expected new guy to be hardier.

On the table beside the bed, the sandwich and bottle was still there. Completely untouched. New guy'll get sick if he doesn't eat.

Throwing the towel aside, Kiriwar sat on the edge on the bed, on the opposite end, not intent on waking the other guy up. Now, he was free to look at him unhindered. Or at least, his back, from this angle.

From experience, he knew for sure that this guy had some kind of head injury. Probably a concussion. Not that he could tell how bad it was. He sighed impatiently. Damn, he'd fucked up a bit. Shouldn't have hit him so hard. He knew this type. The kind that makes it through his own survivability. A fast runner and a versatile fighter, if not physically able to take heavy blows.

He himself wasn't sure exactly why he was keeping close track of this guy's well-being, but he certainly didn't want him to die. This was the most interesting thing that's happened in Toshima for a while. Not only did he want to blow off some steam, but having this kind of pet was new. No Igura player talked or glared like that. If anything, new guy here was a cure for boredom.

It would have been a waste he'd just killed and left behind a corpse. And handing him over to 'Bitro? 'Bitro was sick, no denying that. He would break him, and this guy would lose those defiant eyes. He had no intent whatsoever on sharing his catch.

He was so interesting.


	2. The Other Executioner

Akira stayed silent, watching the Executioner's back as he pulled on that gray short-sleeved shirt. The last thing he wanted was for the Executioner to realize that he was awake. Sunlight filtered in through the window, letting him know without a clock that it was mid-morning. Maybe 9 or 10. It was the ideal time for breakfast, but he wasn't hungry. These days, he never was. He still hadn't eaten, not that his body was complaining. The less often he ate, the less often his stomach demanded anything from him.

"…!"

The loud jingle of chained tags hitting the floor startled him. Kiriwar pulled his green jacket off a table, knocking those tags off with it. And just as Akira jumped, Kiriwar paused, noticing his awareness.

"My bad, princess." His attention turned to Akira, and his body shifted, Akira's eyes following, and pointed out two distinct items on the table. A different sandwich and a bottle of water from yesterday. "Hungry?"

Keeping his eyes intently on the Executioner, Akira shook his head. A clear refusal. Even though it didn't seem like his captor was interested in killing him, or even harming him, for now, he wasn't interested in any kind of hospitality the Executioner might have to offer. On the other hand, he knew where the bathroom was – a good excuse to escape Kiriwar's vicinity. Without doing so intentionally, he noted the position of the metal pipe on the floor, across the room. Good. He sat up, pushing himself to the edge of the bed, when suddenly the Executioner turned and crossed the already too-close-for-comfort distance between them.

"Goin' somewhere?" Kiriwar then leaned over and placed his hands on the bed, on either side of Akira.

Akira froze, immediately regretting moving. He should have waited until the Executioner had left the room. His mouth opened.

"Bathroom." He replied coldly, not saying more than he needed to.

A grin pulled at the Executioner's face at the sound of Akira's voice. "Need to primp yourself up, princess?"

A laugh.

"No need to."

Those eyes moved from Akira's face to the mess of his hair and his clothes. It was making Akira nervous. Because Kiriwar wasn't saying anything. It looked as if he were contemplating something. He wanted something. This was the last thing Akira wanted to happen, draw attention to himself.

"Hm."

He almost flinched at the sound of the Executioner's voice.

Kiriwar chuckled, then leaned in closer, leaving only centimeters between their faces. "I kinda wanna have some fun first. Before I leave ya."

Akira's body moved out of its own accord, almost throwing itself backwards when Kiriwar shifted the slightest bit. And the next thing he knew he lost his balance, and he was falling backwards. His eyes caught onto the Executioner's face. Kiriwar blinked and moved quickly, the grin gone from his face in an instant.

"Shit."

Before Akira's head hit the ground, a hand cradled around the back of it, and the both of them landed from an awkward fall – half on the bed and half on the floor. Akira opened the eyes he didn't realize he'd shut and reoriented himself. What was that? His sense of balance was worse than he remembered, and now… he felt sick, nauseous. He shut his eyes again, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Hey." Kiriwar's voice pervaded his ears again. "You gonna throw up? Feelin' sick or somethin'?"

Akira clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to resist the urge to gag. Then in the next moment, he felt himself get lifted up into the air and felt the Executioner's pacing across the room. A door creaked open then he was placed back onto the ground, his head right over the toilet in the bathroom. Just as soon as he recognized where he was, he coughed. The acid in his stomach burned his throat, but nothing came out his mouth. Now he realized just how empty his stomach was. It was a painful sensation to be throwing up while hungry.

He didn't know exactly how long he knelt there, gagging and coughing, before he was able to force his seizing throat to relax. Then, he sat there, calming his breathing. There was a hand at his back, Kiriwar's. There wasn't much room in his mind for registering anything else however. His head was killing him.

"Definitely got a concussion."

You think?

Akira almost scoffed at the diagnosis, slightly bitter and frustrated at the same time. Then something cold touched his lips. He opened slightly blurry eyes to see a water bottle held there. Without hesitation, he gripped right on top of the Executioner's hand and started to gulp it down.

"Not too fast." Kiriwar cautioned.

Akira ignored those words, only seeking to sate his sudden thirst. Then the bottle was pulled away. He turned his head to glare at the Executioner, but that gaze was just met evenly.

"Hey. You'll just make yourself sick again."

Whatever pseudo-concern this was, Akira didn't care to think about it more. He let out a harsh sigh. Now that this painful episode was over, he just wanted to clean himself up. Then go rest again. This vulnerable state of his right now, he hated it. Taking a shower, however, wasn't going to happen while the Executioner was here. Didn't he have to leave already?

A faint voice from some other room reached his ears.

"Jiijii!"

Akira's body tensed. He recognized it. Gunji.

"Still snorin' in there, Jiijii?"

Behind him, Kiriwar answered. "You're loud, brat!"

The high volume hurt Akira's ears and head. This didn't go unnoticed by Kiriwar, who immediately returned to silence. They both heard the sound of the door in the bedroom slam open. Immediately, Kiriwar stood up, and Akira heard him leave the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Voices barely stifled by walls continued to converse in the other room.

"Were ya takin' a shit, Jiijii?"

"Shut it, brat. We're late anyway."

Indiscernible clanking. The Executioner was throwing on his boots, jacket, tags and taking his weapon with him. Akira could visualize. The bedroom door slammed shut once again shortly after, and there was silence. He relaxed, turning to lean back against the wall and shut his eyes. They were gone and likely would be for the next couple of hours. He finally had his solitude and couldn't be more relieved to have it.

He looked around himself. This was the first time he'd seen the inside of the bathroom after all. The first thing his eyes centered on was the faucet and shower head in the corner. If nothing else, he needed a shower.

* * *

No one else knew about the pet he took back with him in his room, save for the guards he passed by. Outside of that, he had no intention of letting neither the brat nor 'Bitro know explicitly. It would just be bothersome. They'll just find out eventually. It would be easier to spare the questions this way for now. In the brat's case, he would just get overexcited and try to take the guy for himself. Kiriwar knew just how much the brat favored this specific Igura player from before. Something about the coldness and defiance made him stand out amongst the others. That was the thing though. Kiriwar had no intention of sharing, and it would be a pain in the ass to keep this guy to himself. That was pretty much the motivation behind his sudden exit. Besides, he didn't want Gunji breaking down the door to his bathroom.

This guy was definitely pretty sick. He hit his head too hard before. And those symptoms all screamed concussion. Loss of consciousness, dizziness, confusion – well, the confusion could be attributed to something else. But the vomiting this morning was a big red flag. He didn't sign up to play nurse for a sick person. He was just looking for something interesting to bring back and play with outside of the mundanity of his job. He let out a long sigh.

"What's up with ya, Jiijii?" Gunji, striding just aside, scrutinized him. "Somethin' eatin' ya?"

Damn. If there was anything redeeming to the brat's qualities, it was that he was sharper and more observant than he initially seemed.

"Hungry as fuck." He answered simply.

Brat would take that answer without question.

"Oh yeah. Ya didn't eat last night. Just went straight back to your room to sleep. Gettin' old?" Gunji raised an eyebrow. "Must've been pretty exhausted, huh, Jiijii?"

If he didn't know any better, he might have thought that tone sounded slightly skeptical.

"Yeah, I was." Kiriwar dismissed it, tapping Mitsuko against his shoulder.

"…Hm~"

They continued their long strides, tracing a route through the less populated alleyways, then through the main streets. They almost never touched the neutral zones. At least, not solely for the purpose of patrolling. No Igura fights could even take place inside anyway, so there was no point in visiting. Today, rule breakers seemed particularly inclined to act up, the majority of them Line users, as per usual. A few tag thiefs, no-witness fight initiators, and then there was the random runner. No evidence for any rule breaking, but the general consensus for both the Executioners was strike first, ask questions later. By the runner was down on the ground, no longer able to escape, it was too late not to add him to the day's dead body count. And on this particular day, there were many.

Dark was already beginning to approach by the time they cracked down on one last Igura participant.

"Huh… So he really didn't do anything." Gunji squatted down and poked at the heavyset man with a bloodied claw. "What a fuckin' idiot."

Kiriwar just threw his head back and let out a long exhale. "Another body we gotta clean up."

"Don't worry 'bout it, Jiijii. Don't sweat the details~"

"That's 'cause you ain't gonna be the one to carry it." He retorted, at the same time throwing the man's lifeless body over his shoulder.

He was already tired from the endless stream of cowards and idiots. It was enough having to patrol all day. People just made it more annoying by breaking the rules. Resistance and fighting back were all fair game and added a little excitement to the shift, but damn, lugging around their corpses was a drag.

On this particular day, someone else stood out from the crowd. He didn't seem to be following the crowd or with any other participants in particular, but he just stood there, quietly watching. Brown hair, brown eyes, worn clothes, and a fairly sizeable stature, with an air of nervousness. It looked like the guy had something to say, but he never ended up stepping forward. Kiriwar didn't know what to make of him, not that he was going to going to call him out. What if he started running? And if he started running, they would start chasing. He didn't feel like lugging back another corpse. So he just ignored him. Kiriwar was simply interested in getting back to his room to check in on his sick pet.

* * *

"I know you didn't eat all day."

The blatant accusation caught the sick guy off-guard. Kiriwar was staring at him, almost as if he were reprimanding him for not taking care of himself.

"I don't intend on lettin' you make yourself sick." He tilted his head. "Dunno how you lived this long this way."

When he returned to the room, he found the guy sleeping in the bed, and the food on the table beside it – meant for this guy to eat – completely untouched. It had been entire days now since the last time this guy had eaten. Surely, his stomach must be killing him now. But nothing. Kiriwar didn't know if this was the same kind of no-eating-out-of-stress tendency that happens with pets, but he didn't intend on keeping someone sick. It'd be no fun trying to get into the pants of someone constantly about to fall over or throw up. If this guy wasn't going to eat on his own, Kiriwar was going to watch him and make sure he does.

When he first entered, he threw his jacket and tags aside. As soon as he placed Mitsuko on the floor, creating an audible clank, the guy opened his eyes. A light sleeper. Kiriwar hadn't intended on waking him up immediately at the very least. Someone with a concussion needed to sleep. But nonetheless, the guy woke and immediately, the tired haze in his eyes turned into cold guardedness. He was wary. Always wary. Not that he didn't have good reason though. He should be scared. Kiriwar himself knew that he rarely had very good intentions.

"Light sleeper, aren't you?" He spoke aloud, now addressing those guarded eyes. "Still aren't hungry?"

He made a point, leaning against table that held the untouched sandwich and water. This was second time he'd done this after all. What a waste. Kiriwar was actually pretty tired from the day – more rule breakers, dumbass-gutsy drug addicts, and body clean-ups on the street. He wanted nothing more than to unwind, and when he looked down at this guy, a thought crossed his mind, to just take what he wanted, act on his impulse without a care for protest. But. Once again, he pushed that impulse down. It was frustrating. Still, this guy wasn't going to last long if he didn't recover well. Kiriwar sighed.

"Since you obviously won't eat on your own, I'll make you."

It sounded like a veiled threat. It solicited no response.

"You're comin' with me to the kitchen." A hand went to the back of Kiriwar's neck. "I'll make you somethin', and I'll be sure to make you eat it."

This time, the guy's face changed slightly though still unmoving. He raised an eyebrow. Had he expected something else?

* * *

The clink of unwashed dishes was a familiar sound. It reminded Akira of his small, dimly lit kitchen back in the CFC. Small cloud of steam rose from the running water, and he watched the Executioner's back as dish and utensil after utensil filled the empty rack to the side. Nostalgic memories of his previous living situation seemed to emerge at random. He wasn't quite sure why. This kitchen was luxurious by comparison, and the only other presence in his own apartment would only ever be no one other than himself.

Or Keisuke.

He lowered the glass in his hand to the counter. For the past minute or two, he'd been lightly sipping at the water, idle. Kiriwar had neither spoken nor turned to him since he started washing dishes. He'd hinted at eating dinner here, but the time was kind of…

Akira's eyes turned to the clock hung high on the wall above the door that connected the kitchen to the dining room. Almost 11 pm. To add to that, he wasn't particularly hungry. Not that the feeling contributed much to when he would eat. Nowadays, he hadn't had much of an appetite. Neither did he make many attempts to sate it. Not since he'd made his way to Toshima.

The ceramic mug made its way back to his mouth again. Then he realized it was empty. Just as he set the mug back down again. Kiriwar had turned to the refrigerator, yanking it open and pulling out what looked like leftover food. Their eyes met briefly.

"Dinner from earlier." Kiriwar turned to the stove. "Lucky brat didn't finish it all off."

Akira had no sense of fancy dish names, but what Kiriwar pulled out looked surprisingly like nothing more than chicken and rice. Not so far-fetched from the sandwiches he'd been living off recently.

The Executioner set both plastic-wrapped plates on the counter and pulled out a pan from a shelf just above the stove and began unwrapping the plastic. Akira blinked. Did the Executioner actually have some cooking skill? He never would have guessed–

After a brief glance at the dishes, the Executioner unceremoniously tossed them into the pan and cranked up the heat.

Oh. So he was just warming them up. How anticlimactic. But what exactly did he expect from leftovers?

For another minute or two, Kiriwar shook the pan around, mixing the meat and rice together, turned off the stove, and pulled a small mat off the same shelf then two spoons off the rack with his other hand. He turned to Akira's direction, dropped the mat in the center and placed the still steaming pan on top of it. Setting one spoon in front of Akira, he sat himself down directly across and turned the pan so that its handle stuck out of the way and to the side.

"Eat up."

Without wasting a second, Kiriwar started digging away at the chicken-rice mix. It wasn't that Akira was skeptic of the meal's edibility, but he just felt a bit taken aback by the strange scenario. Sitting down and eating a mundane meal with the Executioner wasn't something most Igura participants would imagine. Not only that, Kiriwar was hardly saying anything. Still, he looked up at Akira, expecting him to start eating away. He knew Akira hadn't taken a bite of anything since the previous night. So with a decisive inhale, Akira picked up the spoon.

Kiriwar watched the guy poke at the meal. The food seemed fine, smelled pretty good too, so what was stopping him? Maybe princess thought he snuck something in it. No chance of that anyway, he was shoving way more of it down out of the both of them. After an initial hesitation, finally, the guy took a bite.

Funny. The way those eyes lit up. Even if just for a second. He seemed to like it. Good. Though Kiriwar could hardly take credit for 'Bitro's chef. All he himself did was heat it up. Still, it was pretty satisfying to see this guy was capable of enjoying himself, even though it was just eating. He watched those movements intently, noting the change in cautiousness. All this time, princess never let down his guard and made extra effort to avoid contact with him in any way, except with those eyes. This was the first time they sat down and had a proper meal together. Not that he, brat, and 'Bitro really did any of that shit though.

The guy, though less guarded, still kept a good distance away, sitting up somewhat straight and leaning away from the table. Whether or not he was conscious of this himself, Kiriwar didn't know. At the very least, he could see why brat like calling him "Kitty." It suited him. That distant demeanor and cold gaze. So far, he hadn't ever seen this guy without it.

* * *

 _"Tama was checkin' out some other guy back there." He spoke, tapping the iron pipe – Mitsuko – at his shoulder._

 _"Pochi." Gunji stubbornly corrected._

 _"Whatever, brat. Pochi was checkin' out some guy back there."_

 _As they kept up their stride back to the mansion, Gunji hummed in thought. "Pochi said he was hungry though. He better make up his mind what to do."_

 _The brat counted out on his hand. "Goin' back to eat. Or goin' for another rule breaker."_

 _Kiriwar sighed, not caring to continue the argument. They were already on their way back. No point in returning to the scene. If whoever that was really had been a rule breaker, he should be smart enough to be long gone by this point. He'd cut it pretty close back there. Only Gunji's impulsive nature saved him._

 _Looking aside at his partner, he noticed even the brat seemed to be in his own head._

 _"First time we've seen that guy around here, huh, Jiijii?"_

 _"Yeah."_

 _Sure. It was. New people popped up in Toshima all the time. Just as quickly as dead bodies showed up in the streets._

 _"Really like those eyes." Gunji spoke up again. "Kinda wanna catch Kitty for myself~"_

 _Kiriwar raised an eyebrow at that statement. So brat really was showing interest in this new face. Not like he couldn't understand though. Maybe it was partly due to the lack of pretty faces around the area, but new guy wasn't too bad. In fact, he himself also shared that interest. Maybe next time he'd also grab the chance to say hi._

 _Chasing the rule-breaking tag thief – it wasn't too much longer until they ran into the new face again._

* * *

He'd finished off over half of the dish already. This guy really didn't eat much. Either way, he was going to leave it to princess to finish off the rest. Nothing since last night and not a single complaint throughout the day. That's got to take a toll. Even if princess didn't have much on him. He set down his spoon and reached for the empty mug on the table. Notably, the guy's attention snapped back to the movement. He didn't shift away or react in any other way – some kind of progress – but he definitely didn't enjoy the Executioner's close proximity. That subtle way of putting a wall between them, somehow, it didn't settle well with Kiriwar. He didn't like it, and a subtle ache unlike anything he'd felt before stirred up his chest.

He didn't let the moment last too long and stood up to get to the faucet. One nudge and running water filled the glass. He turned to lean in front of the sink and downed the water. His eyes locked back onto the silent guy, who was still picking away at the food.

"What's your name?"

He himself was surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. Much less as taken aback as "Kitty" visibly was. There was only a very brief silence before words filled the air between them again.

"Akira."

Akira, huh.

Kiriwar sipped the remaining water in the mug.

What a fitting name. Somehow, the guy sitting before him did look like an Akira. It was surprisingly nice to put a name to the face he'd been looking a lot at recently.

"Are you normally this ravenous?" Kiriwar asked, obviously referring to Akira's lack of attention to the food.

Surprised by the sarcastic comment, Akira blinked, then continued to pick away. "I don't normally eat like this."

"Really? Like this?" He was curious. What was that supposed to mean?

"…Solids. They're cheap and have all the nutritional content you need." Akira answered.

"Huh." The ever-so-infamous solids. Not so high in taste quality but common.

The silence remained pervasive for another awkward stretch of silence. And throughout the entire time not once did Kiriwar his eyes off him. Akira tried his hardest not to show his unsettledness, but it was hard not to be uncomfortable under the Executioner's gaze, not knowing what he could possibly be thinking. He shifted, making a visible effort to take a bite. It wasn't bad or anything. The sauce on the chicken was actually pretty good, and rice was always a comfortable staple. But it was the unfamiliar environment that threw him off. And the Executioner's stare. He set his spoon against the plate with a decisive clink.

"What?" It was half a demand and half a protest.

"Hm?" Kiriwar blinked. "Feelin' uncomfortable, 'Kira?"

At that, Akira completely stopped chewing. Then swallowed. He was caught off guard by the sudden sound of his–

"Seems like you don't like bein' called by name." Kiriwar tilted his head, laughing a bit.

"That's not–" Akira started.

"Then you do?" He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening a bit. "Just say what you mean. …Akira."

Again. Something about the way Kiriwar was speaking was riling him up. Akira narrowed his eyes, then focused his attention back onto the task at hand. Finishing this meal. Speeding up the process, he shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

"Akira." The Executioner was clearly enjoying Akira's involuntary attention to the sound of his name. "Akira. Akira Akira Akira Akira Akira Akira Aki–"

A hand closed over Kiriwar's mouth.

"Stop." Akira closed his eyes, vaguely annoyed. "I get it. You can call by name. Just don't– …You don't need to keep repeating it over and over again. I get it already. Alright?"

A few moments passed without words, and Akira opened his eyes, realizing that he still hadn't released the Executioner. When he looked across the table, Kiriwar's eyes were still on him though. It seems he'd been surprised by the fact that Akira made contact with him at all. Voluntarily. He hadn't moved, his arms still in front of him, leaning forward in Akira's direction. Why was this so intimidating? There was no reason right now to believe that he was in any kind of danger. Maybe it was the fact that the Executioner had absolutely no sense of personal space. Moving without consideration for others. Staring at whatever he felt like staring at. Doing whatever he wanted. But he must be used to doing that. The Executioner being as strong as he was though, there wasn't anyone to keep him in check in the interest of social norms. Akira was ready to break contact already at this point. He pulled away.

But when his hand dropped, immediately, a strong grip closed around his wrist. He froze. Kiriwar pulled so that Akira's upper body leaned over the table, bringing the both of them close. A million thoughts crossed Akira's mind. He had no idea what the Executioner wanted. But a clear recollection came to the fore, the encounter in the alleyway. And immediately any semblance of bearable interaction faded away. He pulled his arm away. And surprisingly, Kiriwar let go. Akira broke eye contact, nausea stirring in his stomach. Not through any fault of the Executioner– Actually, it was because of the injury that was inflicted on him. He probably shouldn't have been eating so quickly.

Kiriwar noticed Akira's face was getting pale. Akira didn't outright look sick, but from the way his eyebrows furrowed and he occasionally closed his eyes, something was up.

"Your head hurts? Tummy ache or somethin'?" Kiriwar asked, eyeing him from across the table.

Akira didn't answer immediately, his eyes shut. After a moment, he spoke up again. "I'm fine."

Hm. Not believable.

"Not gonna throw up again, are you?" He was already almost out of his seat.

"No." A curt answer.

He knew it. The best cure was lots of water and rest. And maybe a couple painkillers wouldn't hurt. He sat there, contemplating for a moment. Then, he stood up. There was something in his bathroom cabinet.

"Be right back. Hold tight, princess."

And just like that, Kiriwar was out of the kitchen. Akira just sat there, watching the heavier kitchen door swing shut. He sure moved fast. Now idle, Akira didn't have much of an idea of what to do. He was about three-fourths done with his meal, but he wasn't particularly intent on finishing it. Not when his stomach was like this.

A minute passed, and Akira absentmindedly stirred at the remaining food. Might as well just push it aside now. Where did Kiriwar go? It wasn't that he was keen to be in the Executioner's company once again, but he preferred it to potentially running into someone else. In this house, there were two other inhabitants in particular that he didn't want to see. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. If he weren't mistaken, Kiriwar had crossed the hall. Most likely, he had returned to his room. It wasn't too far from here, and the chances Akira would run into someone in the hallway passage at this time of night was fairly low.

His hands pushed against the kitchen exit door out to the hallway, and it swung open easily–

Almost knocking into another person behind it. By the quick side-step, whomever the door nearly knocked into didn't expect it to open. Akira's heart dropped.

An intimidatingly-cut figure, with blond hair and dark tattoos covering an exposed torso and arms. On those sharp facial features were eyes wide open in surprise at first, but then that expression soon changed. He tilted his head with an unsettling grin of recognition. Then locked the door open with one arm, knocking it into the wall stopper behind it, effectively blocking Akira's way with his stature.

Gunji. The other Executioner.

He leaned in, locking his eyes onto Akira's face, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Kitty~!"


	3. Three Dangerous Men

Before him stood Gunji. The other Executioner. The large grin that spread on his face at the sight of Akira was dangerously eager. Akira's eyes quickly flickered to the side, searching for an escape route. There were none. Stepping back wasn't an option, and slipping through the space at Gunji's sides was entirely too risky.

"Ya look nervous, Kitty." Gunji tilted his head and leaned down, making it impossible for Akira to do anything else but make eye contact.

"Hyaha~" Gunji laughed. "Your eyes… Love 'em."

The hairs on the back of Akira's neck stood on end, but he bit down his fear. The only words he could come up with escaped his mouth.

"Excuse me."

At that, Gunji raise an eyebrow, that cocky smile never leaving his face. Internally, Akira cursed himself. The Executioner seemed to find his response amusing.

"So what brings ya here?" He asked. "Can't think of a single reason why ya'd be in here? Not tryin' to drop out of Igura, are ya? That's against the rules."

"Is it?" Akira retorted.

"Hm… is it~?" Gunji shifted his barring hold on the door, making himself more comfortable. "You tell me, Kitty."

That sounded vaguely like a threat. Or a challenge. The Executioner grinned at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He wasn't going to concede with a show of submission. In the lightest hint of defiance, he lifted his head up.

"I didn't come here to drop out."

"So then, why're ya here?"

"…I…" He had no answer to that. His eyes flickered to the side, and he rubbed his lips together.

Gunji's eyes immediately dropped down to his mouth, catching onto that momentary display of weakness.

"Heh."

Akira flinched when a grip closed around his forearm and when he tried to pull away, Gunji didn't let go. Rather, he brought it up closer to his face, to examine it.

"Looks like ya need some meat on ya. Why're ya so skinny, Kitty? Like you're a lost stray."

Akira briefly recalled his former nickname playing Blaster back in the CFC. _Lost_. Suddenly, Gunji straightened up.

"Since you're here… why don't I take ya in?" He brightened. "I'll take great care of ya, Kitty~"

The Executioner was so strange. Unpredictable. That was dangerous – if the metal claws weren't enough of a warning sign. It was obvious what he was going to say to that.

"No thanks." He set his expression to a hard glare.

And Gunji wasn't the least bit put off. "Oh?"

A loud crack resounded when the arm locking the door open pushed against it harder. It startled Akira.

"Makes me wanna take ya for myself even more." His voice lowered as he leaned in.

Immediately, every muscle in Akira's body tensed in anticipation. But he had nowhere to run.

"Let go." He said coldly.

Gunji laughed. "Sure."

Then he yanked Akira out into the hallway, throwing him hard against a table on the opposite side. Akira felt his back hit the edge and knock over what felt like miniature statues. When he opened his eyes next, Gunji was directly in front of him, slamming his hands down on either side of the waist-high table surface. Immediately, Akira moved to slip out of the small opening underneath Gunji's arm. But that attempt was quelled in an instant. The Executioner's hand grabbed onto Akira's jaw, leaning him back in an uncomfortable hold against the wall and the table placed inbetween. Akira grabbed onto that wrist, his expression twisting from the rough pressure. A quiet grunt escaped him as he turned his eyes to glare defiantly at the Executioner.

"Heh."

As the back of Akira's head hit the wall behind him, he threw a knee out, kicking into the Executioner's stomach and taking him off-guard. The rough hold loosened enough for him to jerk himself away. He slipped past Gunji, only free long enough to realize he had no idea which direction to go. In the next moment, three things happened at once. Another hand closed around his wrist. Then, he heard the dull sound of impact. And a pained grunt from the Executioner.

By the time he'd turned around, he saw Gunji had been struck aside. He was holding onto the side of his head.

"Agh… Damn, Jiijii. Ya really don't pull your punches, do ya?" Gunji hissed in annoyance, still smarting from the blow.

Kiriwar still hadn't relaxed his grip on Akira's arm. It was beginning to become painful. Akira shifted uncomfortably, and Kiriwar seemed to take note. His eyes, turned aside, glanced down momentarily at their point of contact, and he let go. Then, his attention turned back to Gunji.

"Get your own pet, brat. You're always breakin' shit." He spoke. "You gotta quit playin' so rough."

"Huh?" Gunji straightened up, fully recovered. He stared at Akira then at his partner then back at Akira. He raised an eyebrow, silent for a moment. Then, he broke into laughter, holding onto his sides.

"Ahahaha! No waayyy… So you picked Kitty up and took him back here? Is that where you've been, Jiijii? Shutting yourself up in your room?"

"Shut it, brat. Ain't no point in keepin' a dead pet."

Exaggeratedly, Gunji kept on laughing. "So that's where ya went off to that time~"

Akira knew clearly what the Executioner was referring to. When the blue-haired tag thief Takeru grabbed his wrist and yanked him along, he had broken away and split off. Unfortunately, out of the two paths he had taken, he managed to run into one of the Executioners. What happened next, he wasn't so eager to recall.

"So ya caught him, huh? Why didn't ya tell me? I kinda just gave up. Thought I lost him." Gunji stuck his tongue out. His eyes looked Akira up and down, scrutinizing him. "But you caught him, didn't ya? And from the looks of it, ya messed him up pretty bad. Been playin' nurse in your room, Jiijii?"

"Yeah." Kiriwar retorted. "It'd be a waste to let him just die."

His partner latched onto the word.

"Die? Hyaha~! Damn, Jiijii. Looks who's been playin' rough!"

When Gunji's laughter died down, his voice lowered.

"…Was it fun~?" His eyes locked onto the slighter figure, standing just behind his partner. "Bet it was."

That intentional scrutiny unnerved Akira. For once, he was glad, Kiriwar was there.

"Shit."

Kiriwar's voice pulled his attention to something down the hallway. Another figure. When he recognized it, he froze, knowing it was in his best interest not to move from the Executioner's side. In this absurd situation, his only wall of defense was Kiriwar, who for some reason was inclined to shield him.

"Ah! Shikiti~" Gunji dropped his hand from his head, waving excitedly. "Come back to see Papa, huh~"

Boots clacked against expensive marble floor, and then the leather-clad figure stopped mere meters away from them.

"Move."

It didn't seem as if he had taken notice of Akira quite yet.

"Aw, come on, Shikiti~" Gunji grinned. "It's been a while. Don't got time to play?"

Kiriwar had been uncharacteristically quiet for a while now. And it seemed Shiki finally picked up on the unusual behavior. Exactly as Akira dreaded, those red eyes shifted from Kiriwar to him standing just behind. The only sign of curiosity that showed was the slightest exhale.

"Hm."

Akira noted the black suitcase in his hand. Then Shiki turned his attention back to whatever task he had on hand, speaking to the blond-haired Executioner. "You're in my way, dog."

"Am I?"

And the already volatile situated sparked once again. Gunji, still armed with his claws slashed, just as Shiki moved out of the way, unsheathed katana in his hand. Kiriwar seemed to tense the slightest. Perhaps because of the fact that he was the only one out of the three unarmed. He stood back, not so willing to join the fray. Akira merely watched the brutal movements of the other Executioner, who was aggressively attacking his leather-clad opponent, laughing all the way. And Shiki dodged with ease, still not having drawn his sword.

Then. Those that cold red gaze focused on him.

Akira blinked in surprise, watching in slow motion as the glint of sharp metal slid out from beneath a sheath and Shiki quickly turned on his heel. But Kiriwar was faster. He quickly grabbed Akira, pulling him aside just as Shiki's blade ran through the space Akira was in just a split second before. When that sword changed direction in one deft turn of the wrist, Kirwar ducked underneath, ramming his elbow in the direction of its wielder's abdomen. Shiki conceded, jumping back, now on the opposite side of the hallway.

For a moment, Akira thought he saw a brief amused tilt to Shiki's mouth as his eyes flicked from him to Kiriwar, but then the dark figure quickly turned back to face the direction he had initially been walking.

"Hey, Shikiti! We ain't done yet!" Gunji complained, pursing his mouth in frustration.

While the other Executioner was distracted, Kiriwar tugged on Akira's arm, indicating that they should escape the situation. Akira had no objection to doing so.

* * *

Inside the room, Akira, still a bit shaken from the fresh encounter, stayed still as Kiriwar scanned him. He held onto Akira's arms, checking for any sign of injury, scrutinized his face for bruising. He even probed at Akira's back, noting the exact spot that had been slammed against the edge of table. The entire session was actually unusually relaxing, somehow therapeutic. At this point, Akira knew that Kiriwar had no intent to hurt him. At least for now. From his actions just beforehand, at the very least, the Executioner was a way for him to stay somewhat safe. Even though Kiriwar was the one who put him into the situation in the first place. There was no denying that Akira still wanted to escape, but perhaps as a result from what had just transgressed, at the moment, that desire wasn't so urgent. He wasn't sure if it were enough for him to say that he was safe in this company, but tonight, it wasn't so hard for him to relax in Kiriwar's presence.

"Damn that brat." Kiriwar mumbled, observing the bruising on Akira's face. Their eyes locked, then he pulled Akira with him to the bathroom, less roughly than expected. "Over here."

As the door shut behind them and the lights flickered on, Akira caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There was a bruise on the side of his jaw where Gunji's grip had dug in. As for the rest of his body… he finally saw the state of his injuries. Definitely, they looked worse than they felt. He had already gotten accustomed to the ache of his contusions. His jaw, neck, shoulders, arms, back, wherever else he couldn't see.

But.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind. Maybe, perhaps, because of the Executioner's overwhelming strength, he must not be so used to dealing with injuries. He couldn't imagine a time where Kiriwar must have gotten himself severely injured. He couldn't even fathom the idea that someone could give him a black eye. Perhaps the Executioner was overestimating the extent of his injuries. They weren't too bad at all. At the very least, he was far from dying. He recalled a few words from earlier.

Suddenly, he felt his shirt lift up, and he jerked away in surprise, turning to look at the Executioner.

"Gotta take a shower, don't ya?" Kiriwar responded, as if taking someone else's clothes off were a completely natural occurrence.

It wasn't that Akira protested the shower deal, but he wasn't so willing to strip in front of someone else. When Kiriwar reached towards him again, he stepped back and pushed that hand aside. Kiriwar's expression didn't change the slightest. Rather, he looked up at Akira, strangely silent. Even the sound of a single drip from the faucet was enough to fill the large bathroom. Akira met that gaze evenly, unable to interpret the Executioner's intention. It didn't seem like he had some hidden motive or anything. Still, you don't just pull off other people's shirts.

"…I can do it myself."

Taking a shower, he meant.

He wasn't so keen on having someone else's company while doing so, especially not the Executioner's. After a moment, Kiriwar spoke up again.

"Suit yourself."

He turned and walked towards the facet and shower head in the opposite side of the bathroom. Running water hit the shallow bucket underneath the faucet, and he held a hand below to interrupt the flow, testing out the temperature. Akira simply stood, not quite sure what to do.

After ten seconds or so passed, Kiriwar pulled his hand back, seemingly satisfied. Then, the metal knob squeaked, turned aside, and water came out of the shower head instead. Kiriwar held the shower head aside and hooked it above his head, careful to avoid getting hit by the stream. Just beside the bucket, he pulled a bottle of shampoo closer, and he straightened. Then, he reached back over his shoulders and pulled his shirt off.

Hold on.

"What are you–"

"Gonna take a shower, little lady." Kiriwar spoke, now unbuckling his belt. "That's what I do everyday."

Well. Yeah, but–

He was acting as if it were completely normal to be doing this in front of him.

Tossing his belt aside, Kiriwar looked over his shoulder back at Akira. "Don't be shy, princess. We're both guys."

Akira hunched his shoulders. "That's not it–"

The Executioner turned back around and paced towards him, closing the distance with a few strides.

"Then aren't you gonna shower?"

 _Not with you here._

That was what he wanted to say. Even though he didn't feel as if he were in danger in any way, the Executioner was unsettling him. Kiriwar had an entirely different demeanor. Not trying to be intimidating. Or demanding. Or aggressive. Akira didn't know how he was supposed to react.

"I'll shower alone." He said.

When the Executioner remained silent, Akira simply waited, curious as to what he would do.

"Sure thing, 'Kira." Kiriwar walked past him, in the direction of the door. "I'll grab some extra clothes for you."

And just like that, he turned the knob and stepped out of the bathroom. Akira stood, dumbfounded by the fact that his insistence was so easily accepted.

"Here."

So quick. Kiriwar opened the door slightly, setting a stack of clothes on a nearby counter.

"You can change into these when you're done."

Without waiting for an acknowledgment, he pulled to close the door. Akira listened for a click when it shut once more.

"…Okay."


	4. Drunk

The Executioner paced across the room, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him, and rubbed his own hair dry with a small towel. He'd entered the bathroom, just as Akira had left, and took a very short shower. Short enough that Akira's hair was still fairly damp by the time he came back out.

"…!"

Akira felt himself stumble forward a bit as a towel hit the back of his head and draped itself over his eyes. Then hands grabbed either side and roughly began rubbing it through his hair. Startled, Akira reached up, grabbing both the Executioner's wrists.

"Hey–"

His protest was muffled by a deliberate shake of the towel, covering his mouth. The Executioner held it there, and when Akira made no move to pull away from the contact, he laughed.

"Aw. Don't be scared, little lady. I'm just playin' with ya."

He finally yanked the towel off Akira's head, leaving almost completely dry, but incredibly messy, hair. Akira, unsure of how to respond, turned around to stare Kiriwar in the face. What he received in return was a grin. The Executioner was obviously amused by something.

"Need a brush, 'Kira?"

Akira quickly moved a hand to his mussed up hair, trying to calm it down from the thorough yet vigorous drying session. With one glance at Kiriwar's closely cropped hair, he was sure the Executioner would have no such tool. But then, Kiriwar yanked at a drawer, pulling out a small, fine-toothed comb. Akira blinked. How unexpected.

"Here you go." Kiriwar said, holding it out.

"…"

The Executioner was keeping it so close to his own body, hardly stretching his arm out. Akira would have to step much closer, but he wasn't too keen on making skin contact. With cautious eyes, he moved in, reached out, and took the comb. For a moment, he could've sworn the Executioner held onto the comb for a moment longer as he was pulling it out of his grasp. Relieved that nothing happened, Akira began running the comb through his hair, ignoring Kiriwar's gaze.

Damn. Kiriwar had really made a mess. There were frustrating tangles throughout his hair, and he pulled down at them carelessly, wanting to finish the job quickly. The faster he escaped the Executioner's attention the better. There was an awkward silence as he worked his way through, and by the time he was done, water trapped inbetween the tangles were now dripping out of his hair. If he'd had the chance, he would have cut it before coming to Toshima. His hair was a bit too long for convenience. He looked up when he picked up on motion just beside him. Kiriwar's eyebrows rose in suggestion, and he held the towel up higher.

"Don't need it." Akira curtly cut him off.

No way was he going to allow him to try drying his hair off again. He'd just go back to square one with the tangle situation. Kiriwar laughed, taking it in stride.

"Sure thing then, 'Kira. If you insist."

Akira's shoulders hunched involuntarily at the sound of his name again.

"Heh." Kiriwar stepped past, throwing the towel aside into some corner of the room. Then, he leaned down and blew on the back of Akira's neck. "Time to sleep now then."

Arms wrapped around Akira from behind, and he froze. "Wha–?!"

In one strong movement, he felt himself get thrown into the air and landed on his side, onto the soft expanse of the bed. In the midst of his shock, his ears registered a click, and then the lights shut off, leaving him temporarily. Immediately, he flipped himself over to try to sit up. He didn't like this transition as his eyes adjusted. He couldn't tell where the Executioner was in the room, and it unsettled him greatly. He stayed silent, his ears sensitive to any sign of movement in the dark. But before they could pick up on anything, a force tackled his back to the bed. His arms went up as he started trying to wiggle his body out of the grip.

An amused voice reached his ears. "Calm down, little lady. Ain't gonna hurt you or anythin'."

Well. That may be true, but he would very much prefer not to be in this close of a vicinity to the Executioner. This was the first time he was actually conscious while they shared the same bed. Every other time, he'd knocked out before the Executioner did. He never gave much thought to when or how Kiriwar slept. In the back of his mind, he figured that they probably stayed in the same bed, but since each time he'd woken up there was no one there, he never needed to give it any thought. Now he was wishing he could fall asleep in an instant. There was no escaping this hold. So he tucked his arms into himself, turning the opposite way from the Executioner.

"Funny." Those arms pulled him even closer. "Just relax and let me do this, 'Kira."

Kiriwar shifted once into a slightly more comfortable position – on his stomach. His voice had a hint of tiredness to it. Rather than that sharp, playful tone. The realization that the Executioner could too be exhausted came to him. Kiriwar let out one long exhale, and his breaths evened out a bit more. Without much else of a choice, Akira closed his eyes. The Executioner, however imtimidating of a figure, was human, too – he supposed.

* * *

He opened his eyes to light – in sudden awareness – and turned his head to the side, seeing the bed empty save for himself. The Executioner was gone. Again. And his ever-persistent headache was still there, along with his uneasy stomach – not that he was going to throw up again. He sighed, stretching his body out. At the very least, he was able to relax a little as long as the Executioner wasn't in the vicinity. He turned his head to the side. From the angle at which the sunlight entered through the window, it seemed that he had slept nearly throughout the entire day. Again. He didn't like it. But on the other hand, perhaps all those times he neglected his sleep, since coming to Toshima, were finally catching up to him. He knew all too well himself before all this that his body wouldn't be able to keep up with the way he had been neglecting it. Few hours of restless sleep, ignoring his empty stomach. His body was throwing its dissatisfaction at him now. Not to mention, he managed to acquire fresh, new causes for complaint.

Akira sat himself upright, wincing as he moved his hand to his jaw. He saw for himself the fresh damage done in the bathroom mirror last night. Now, he knew firsthand to avoid getting locked into a hold by the other Executioner. His grip was incredibly strong, and that forcefulness was dangerous. He couldn't imagine what could have happened if his encounter with Gunji remained uninterrupted, and he never wanted to find out. Getting caught alone by him… the thought sent fear running through his body.

Knock knock.

The sudden sound surprised him. Someone was knocking at the door. But who? Certainly not Kiriwar. He wondered if he should even answer. If he were even supposed to answer. But whoever was at the door knocked once again.

He paused, hesitant for a moment, then roused himself, throwing his legs off the side of the bed and standing himself upright. A hand ran through his hair, checking that it wasn't too unruly. Fine – he guessed. Still not entirely sure he went to the door, hesitating once more and setting his face before turning the knob. Unlocked.

He opened the door to a taller man with a mask that covered the upper half of his face. The signature uniform of Arbitro's mansion guards. When he turned his gray eyes to the guard, he saw eyes widen slightly for a brief second. Whether in surprise or interest or whatever other reaction he didn't know. He didn't have to say anything. The guard immediately straightened.

"Arbitro requests your company."

Huh? At the formal addressing, Akira lifted an eyebrow. He wasn't quite sure how to react. In the first place, if the other Executioner hadn't even known he was here, would Arbitro have known? For what reason was he seeking his company? It couldn't be anything good.

But. He did recognize this guard. A height striking a median between Arbitro's and the Executioners', short black hair, impeccable posture – he'd actually seen this guard on a few occasions, the first when he'd visited the mansion with Motomi and Keisuke for that bizarre Igura initiation. This was also the first time he'd seen Arbitro, who'd give one creepy hell of a strong first impression. This guard, out of two, stood at Arbitro's side that time. He wondered if there were some sort of ranking amongst the guards. If so, considering how prevalent this one's presence was, he must be fairly prevalent.

The guard stayed upright, patiently waiting out Akira's silence, his demeanor likely due to familiarity in dealing with the characters in the mansion. Akira could imagine how difficult the Executioners could be at times. Somehow, this realization gave him the slightest bit of ease. When he raised his head up, it seemed the guard could read his mind.

"This way, please." He stood aside and held out an arm.

With compliance, Akira stepped out of the room. The guard shut the door then turned to walk down the large mansion halls. Akira simply walked apart from him, following. He had no quarrel with the guard, who was simply carrying out orders from his boss. He didn't care to fill the silence during the walk, and he couldn't help but wonder what would bring someone to come work for Arbitro. Being in Toshima and working in this environment, one would likely be privy to questionable moral situations. He wouldn't have such a hard time believing this blind following if the guard weren't so proper.

"May I ask something?" The masked man inquired.

Akira was surprised even to hear the guard say anything else.

"Yeah."

For a moment, those barely visible eyes glanced over, seemingly to assess Akira. Then, they looked straight ahead again as they rounded a corner. "What is your relation to the Executioner?"

They were approaching the end of the hall now. A large door loomed at its end.

Akira chose to answer bluntly. "I'm not here because I want to be."

Once again, the guard glanced over. It was too subtle for Akira to truly tell, but those eyes seemed to draw their own conclusions from the state of injuries. A flicker of emotion seemed to cross them. Was it pity?

They stopped at the set of double doors, and the guard knocked twice, firmly but quietly.

"Come in." Arbitro's voice leaked out.

Whether it was subconsciously to himself or for Akira's sake, the guard nodded, grasped the knob, and opened the door.

"Please enter." He spoke.

There was hardly any room for hesitation. Akira walked right in, feeling eyes silently watch his back – just before the door closed shut once more.

Before him was a dimly lit room, unnecessarily decorated with ornate lamps and rugs, for one fancy table and a few chairs at the center. Standing beside the chair at the head of the table was Arbitro, and a smaller figure – the eccentric, blindfolded boy – sat on the floor beside him.

"Welcome." Arbitro greeted him warmly. "Please. Sit."

He gestured to another chair, just beside him. Akira simply walked forward and took the offer. There wasn't much other choice in this situation. Arbitro sat only as Akira did – supposed as some kind of mannerism of a gracious host. This did nothing to ease Akira's suspicion. In front of him were plates filled with various meats, breads, and cheeses. There was even a bottle of wine at the center. A fragile-looking glass before him was already filled with the red liquid.

"Please make yourself comfortable. You are my guest after all." That unsettling smile widened. When Akira didn't make any effort to take a bite, he spoke again. "Are you perhaps worried I've slipped something into the meal? I would do no such thing, I assure you."

Pointedly, Arbitro took a bite of the closest meat dish to him and sipped at a wine glass.

"Please." He gestured. "It would be unfavorable for me to know my guest must be famished."

The smell was very tempting, he had to admit – better than any solid he would eat on his usual diet. However, besides that, his host's tone held a ring of danger. It wouldn't be wise to argue. If only to satisfy, cautiously, he picked up the wine glass, taking the smallest sip. He held back the urge to turn his face. He didn't enjoy the taste of alcohol.

Seemingly placated, Arbitro leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands underneath his chin.

"May I ask your name?"

Akira placed the glass down and looked up. There was no argument as to whether or not he should answer any following questions.

"Akira."

"Akira." Arbitro repeated. "What a beautiful name."

Shivers went up his back. This was the last person he wanted to hear call him by name.

"So it seems my employee has taken an interest in you. I just so much wanted to meet such an interesting person. Now that you sit before me, I can see why you've peaked his interest."

He wasn't interested in hearing those reasons.

"If I may ask, how are you?" Arbitro inquired, ever so politely.

"Fine." He spoke without much investment in his answer.

"Really?" Arbitro raised his eyebrows. Then his eyes scanned Akira's appearance. "You don't seem to be doing so well. I apologize on Kirwar's behalf. Truly, your current physical condition concerns me. It is of the utmost priority."

Akira wasn't so sure how genuine that statement was.

Arbitro narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming more serious. "You are not here of your own volition."

Akira didn't need to answer the question.

"Is it obvious?" He asked, a note of contempt to his voice.

"You've gone through quite the experience. Not only did you encounter my other employee but also my supplier, last night. I heard the entire story from Gunji. He also seems to set on meeting you again. You should take much caution, Akira." He leaned back, that unsettling smile reaching his lips again. "The inhabitants of Toshima can be rather dangerous."

On that point, the both of them could agree.

"Anyway." He waved a hand as if to brush aside the previous topic. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be giving my guards specific orders to allow you to leave."

Akira started at those words. He was allowed to leave?

"And do not worry, dear Akira. I assure you I will not be informing Kiriwar of this decision. There is a saying. 'If it does not come back, it was never yours to begin with.'"

A laugh.

"As I am sure you already know, my employees are rather careless." Arbitro closed one eye in mock lightheartedness. "Let this be a lesson to him."

For some reason, Akira wasn't so keen to take his host for his word.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Well, I do not just speak for your own well-being. To be honest, this is one of the more interesting transgressions I've encountered since coming to this condemned city." He tapped his finger on the table. "Simply said, I want to see what he'll do. Kiriwar has taken an unusually strong interest in you. That is undeniable. So very interesting."

Akira flinched at a sudden sharp pain in his head. Somehow, a fog had grown there throughout the conversation. He only became aware of it in this moment. His increasingly unfocused eyes moved to the nearly untouched wine glass on the table. Internally, he cursed himself out for his stupidity.

"Do not be mistaken, Akira. I have nothing against you." Arbitro's voice could barely cut through the fog. "I simply want to see what happens next."

There was a knock at the door. He couldn't make out the guard's words.

"I see." Arbitro answered. "I'll hear the report in the main hall. I don't want them dragging anything into my dining room."

There was the sound of chair legs scraping against thick rug, and he felt the presence at the table leave. Akira shut his eyes in an attempt to counter the painful echo. He had to leave this room.

He didn't protest when he felt arms at his shoulders. Someone was guiding him, standing him up and bringing him back. To where, he couldn't recall exactly.

* * *

His head was swimming. He never was a fan of drinking back in the CFC. He'd never had enough alcohol to experience the sensation of drunkenness. So this was the feeling. Somehow, not so bad. He felt much freer, in both mind and body.

And now he was thirsty. Alcohol dehydrated him. Water. Where exactly was he now? He opened his eyes enough to the familiar sight of a bedroom. Alright then. Hardly acknowledging the arms holding him up, he pushed them aside, pacing over to the bathroom and throwing open the door. Sink. Sink. Sink. That was the only thing on his mind. Pulling up hard on the handle, he didn't realize the knob for the faucet was turned on for the shower and was promptly hit with a cold rush of water. But only for a moment.

Someone shut off the faucet. And a sharp voice cut painfully through his daze.

"The hell you doing, Akira?"

Oh. He knew that voice. His opened his eyes and looked up at a slightly out of focus Executioner. Kiriwar was frowning. Was he angry? Or thinking really hard? Akira, to himself, could feel the impairing effects of the alcohol, but that knowledge didn't change the fact that he'd lost control of his senses.

"Getting water." He answered simply.

"You trying to take a shower or what?" Kiriwar prompted. "With your clothes on?"

Akira didn't feel like answering. So he reached for the faucet again, this time reaching to turn the knob to the left.

"Hold up, 'Kira." Kiriwar's hand closed over his wrist. The Executioner's stare washed over him. His scrutiny only intensified. "You take something?"

Determined to get his water, Akira moved against the vice around his wrist, moving enough to nudge – no, knock – the knob upwards. A split-second too late, he remembered that he hadn't actually managed to turn the knob before Kiriwar grabbed him.

The shock of cold water froze even the Executioner for a moment, but in the next, he shut the faucet off. This time, the both of them were hit by the shower. Kiriwar let out a short exhale in realization.

"Damn. You're drunk." His eyes moved to Akira's face, scrutinizing once again. "The hell you even get alcohol? Even brat hates that shit."

Akira straightened up, giving up on the whole water issue. He was over his thirst anyway. Distracted by Kiriwar.

"Oh." It seemed Kiriwar finally came to a conclusion. "If it ain't brat, then it's 'Bitro."

Akira's eyes followed the Executioner's movements, as the arm gripping his wrist earlier moved up to his forehead in exasperation.

"'Bitro's fuckin' wine." He turned to address Akira. "So he offered some to you or what?"

Then he sighed, talking to himself again. "No way you'd drink that much. 'Bitro must have snuck something in there. You're not drunk. You're drugged."

Somehow compelled to do so, Akira found himself inching closer to the Executioner, until faced together their shoulders were practically centimeters away. Kiriwar's eyes, having been turned aside before in exasperated thought finally recognized their close proximity.

"You're really out of it if you're getting this close to me." Kiriwar noted.

Akira felt Kiriwar's voice lowering then stopping. So even the Executioner could feel nervousness. As impossible as it sounded, even in this strange state, Akira could feel it. Kiriwar was nervous that they were standing this close. For what reason though, he didn't know. But he knew what he intended to do. It was a long shot, but if he played along with the Executioner's game, he just might have a chance of escape.

For once, he was glad to be incapacitated. Being in this state made it easier to lose his reservations. When his hand moved to Kiriwar's arm, subtly holding him in place, he felt that breathing pause.

Akira stood directly in front of the Executioner and tilted his head upwards, letting his nose briefly graze Kiriwar's jaw. Their eyes met. And Kiriwar stood there, not moving away or saying anything.

Was he waiting for something?

Akira considered something dangerous. It was just an impulse.

Stray drops of water dripped from the shower head, echoing off the tile floor. Distracting his mind. They seemed so loud. So he really must be on something, like Kiriwar said. He regretted drinking the wine Arbitro offered him. So that was his idea of a cordial welcome. Drugging him.

His other arm moved up so that now he was holding onto both Kiriwar's shoulders. Dizzy. He had to steady himself now. Whatever was going on with his body right now, he couldn't stay still and upright for so long. So breaking the close eye contact, he pulled himself closer to Kiriwar's body for stability and buried his face into his chest. It felt like his legs would give if he weren't careful.

Kiriwar didn't make any attempt to move away, letting Akira use him for support. Still not saying anything. It wasn't like Akira was paying much attention to him when he had himself to worry about. Though it wasn't like he distrusted the Executioner now. On the other hand, he knew Kiriwar wouldn't do anything to him.

A muddled voice seemingly miles away registered in his mind. "Hey. 'Kira. You gonna knock out right here?"

Oh. He suddenly lost body contact when he pushed himself away from the Executioner, turning for the door leading out of the bathroom. Before he knew it he found himself standing right at the side of the bed, Executioner in tow. It took a moment to realize he'd been gripping Kiriwar's wrist the entire time. When the back of his knees hit the edge, he sat, shutting his eyes to the pounding in his head. He sat down too quickly.

As he sat there, letting his body recuperate from the sudden movement, he felt Kiriwar start to shift away. In one quick motion, he grabbed both arms at the Executioner's sides before he could turn away completely. Kiriwar paused, seemingly attentive to Akira's abrupt actions.

"Just gonna grab some water, 'Kira." He said. "You'll be good in a bit."

Akira could almost laugh. Somehow, that sounded like reassurance. From the Executioner? So impossible it was hilarious. Of course he didn't laugh out loud, but the ridiculousness was enough to pull a smile at the corner of his mouth. He looked up to see Kiriwar's frozen expression. Of surprise?

"What?" He asked.

For a moment, Kiriwar just stared, then he spoke, under his breath. "Yeah. You're knocked out your mind, for sure."

A sigh.

"Damn, 'Bitro, the hell'd you sneak in there?"

With uncharacteristic persistence, Akira pulled at the Executioner's arms. Even he wasn't entirely sure why he was determined not to let Kiriwar leave. But before the chance for him to turn away came up again, Akira tightened his grip. "Don't."

"Hm?" Kiriwar raised an eyebrow.

"Stay here." He said simply.

"Why?"

Akira didn't relax his grip. "If you go, I'll just be locked up in here."

"…That's what's bothering you?"

He hesitated. Debating on whether to speak his mind or not. This was the Executioner. And there was no way to approach it any easier than he was attempting to. "Let me go."

At that, Kiriwar completely turned to face him again. "Don't like being locked up here in the mansion all day? You bored?"

Was his request not clear enough?

"Let me go." Akira repeated. More firmly. Locking his gaze with the Executioner's.

And the Executioner stood there for a moment, seemingly hesitating. But it wasn't like he would let a moment of uncertainty show. Especially not to a simple yes or no question like that.

"Let me–"Akira almost repeated himself again when Kiriwar leaned down, moving closer to his face.

"Don't feel like it."

That intent stare conveyed the point clearly enough. The Executioner's refusal set an almost tangible tension in the air. Clearly, he didn't like the fact the demand. He set both his hands on either side of Akira on the bed. Confrontational. Even in this drugged stupor, Akira could tell the atmosphere had changed. Perhaps, there was some kind of misunderstanding. He stayed still, not daring to move, to avoid possibly provoking something out of the Executioner.

Then cautiously, he shifted backwards. And Kiriwar followed that movement, leaning in even closer.

In the next moment, Akira was on his back, looking up at the Executioner, who had nudged him in the direction. Now, Akira's arms built a frame between him and Kiriwar. He was increasingly becoming nervous, wishing he hadn't pushed so stubbornly before. The Executioner was unpredictable. It was only luck until now that nothing drastic had happened. Aside from being captured and taken back to the mansion.

Even with Akira's arms held cautiously up to his shoulders. Kiriwar leaned in, pulling them aside then pinning them down, not particularly forcefully but firm enough to keep Akira from moving too much.

"Don't really want to let you go."

Testing the restraints, Akira tried to shift away, unsuccessfully. In the back of his muddled mind, he noted that the position he was in was actually very comfortable. But the Executioner's presence was overloading his thoughts. So cornered that his fight-or-flight response was kicking in. Except the only thing he wanted to do was run away. Despite the seemingly "nice" treatment he had been receiving until now, he knew both Executioners were erratic, dangerous people. Right now, Kiriwar was acting on a whim. Whatever it was, there wasn't anything that would stop him from getting what he wanted.

Akira had a pretty clear idea of what it might be.

"Got a lot of steel, don't ya?" Kiriwar tilted his head, still holding that gaze. "But you aren't yourself right now."

Akira wanted to back out. He changed his mind. Whatever he was considering before, his way of trying to convince the Executioner to let him go… he wanted out.

Kiriwar leaned in, and their noses touched before Akira turned his head aside. The Executioner's mouth nearly grazed his. A quiet refusal. And at the sudden movement, Kiriwar laughed.

"Funny. Akira."

Instead, he moved down to Akira's neck, but not without a struggle this time. Akira pulled hard at his own arms, trying to break free of the strong grip. When that failed, he pulled his knees up and between him and the Executioner.

"No." He meant it. Although his mind was vague, his refusal was clear.

"Hm."

For a brief moment, it looked as he were taking that response into consideration. But in the next, his hands were moving to hold Akira down and give himself room to move closer. He pried Akira's knees apart then moved into the space between them, before pinning both arms down with one grip and using his free hand to slide over Akira's abdomen. And the entire time, Akira fought, trying to push the Executioner off. Even though he knew it was futile to fight. It could even be encouraging him to continue the fun.

"No, no–"

Kiriwar cut him off with a hard kiss, holding Akira's jaw with his other hand to keep him from turning aside. It hadn't been easy to cut down on the impulses he was so used to being able to take whenever he pleased.

"You have no idea how hard it is to hold out."

Akira shut his eyes, his chest pounding hard out of fear. He wanted to bite down – it would turn the Executioner off from kissing him at the very least – but he was afraid of having the pain inflicted back on him, several times over. So this "nice" act really was just an act. He was nearly fooled into placing even the slightest bit of trust into him. His rational mind knew to expect this, but something in his chest hurt at the semblance of betrayal. He managed to turn his head aside for a moment, gasping for air. It was one thing to be under the influence. But add to that the loss of sufficient oxygen, his mind ended up spinning into the next dimension.

"Kiriwar. Don't–" He managed.

He truly believed the Executioner wasn't going to hurt him. It was a comforting enough thought while he still believed in it. But it hurt now.

He couldn't even be angry. But he still pushed away, attacking Kiriwar the only way he was able. His eyes fixed on the Executioner's, conveying every bit of anger he could muster.

 _I trusted you._

Then, as if Kiriwar heard those thoughts, he stopped. Confused, Akira opened his eyes to see an unreadable expression on the Executioner's face. They stayed that way for a moment. The moment of danger had come and gone just like that. The both of them stayed that way for a moment before Kiriwar turned aside, releasing his hold on Akira.

"Alright then."

He sat up straight then moved off the bed. With the Executioner's back to Akira, he had no idea what was going through his head.

"My bad, 'Kira."

He reached for a drawer, pulling out a clean shirt.

"Won't do it again."


	5. Patrol

He woke the next day, much more tired than usual. It wasn't accurate to call it a headache, but his thoughts weren't the clearest they'd ever been. Moreover, he had a more pressing concern. He couldn't recall anything past leaving the kitchen. Right after he accepted Arbitro's offer for a drink. Even now, he could still taste the bitterness of the wine. The reason why people drank alcohol in any form was a mystery to him.

He sat up in a jolt. Self-awareness suddenly returned to him. Where was he exactly right now? After a quick glance at his surroundings, he let out a relieved exhale. The Executioner's room. Recalling rumors of Arbitro's infamy, he'd panicked for a second.

The abundance of light streaming in from the windows let him know it was likely near afternoon. The Executioner must have already left by now–

"Mornin'."

How strange.

Akira's eyes moved to the opposite side of the room, and there he was. Kiriwar sat, leaning a chair backwards, with his feet on the table, seemingly idle. Usually, the Executioner was already gone by the time he woke up. It was some change to see him there first thing in the morning. Then again, this time, Akira had woken earlier. It seemed closer to mid-morning than the usual past-afternoon time, which was strange, considering that he had alcohol the night before.

"You good there, 'Kira?" Kiriwar asked, with the slightest tone of concern in his voice than usual.

"…Yeah."

Akira focused his attention on the Executioner. Why was he asking? Akira wasn't oblivious. It took a moment of contemplation – whether or not to push the question.

"Did something happen last night?" He asked, with a mix of caution and expectancy.

Kiriwar held that eye contact for a second longer, then turned his eyes aside.

"Nope." A grin spread on his face. "You did get drunk as fuck though."

Akira's eyes widened. "What?"

"You heard me." He laughed. "Are you curious?"

Akira didn't answer that question. He only silently turned his mouth aside, with a sour expression, expecting some kind of answer.

"Haha~" Kiriwar didn't take the bait, tilting his chair backwards. "Looks like you'll just have to be satisfied with your own memories."

"I…" Akira looked down and to the side. An admittance of defeat. And a request to satisfy his curiosity. "…Don't remember much."

"What~? Don't tell me you don't remember anything?" Kiriwar let the chair touch the ground, leaning forward with a mock expression of surprise. "Haha. And after everything you did, too… tsk, tsk."

"Huh?" Akira's curiosity really was peaked now. "After everything… I did?"

He was perplexed, unable to tell whether it was a joke or not. There was definitely some kind of half-truth to it, too. Whether or not he wanted to admit, he was becoming somewhat familiar with Kiriwar's personality. He was probably not going to let him in on anything.

"Yeah." He affirmed, standing up from his chair.

Akira stilled as the Executioner made his way towards the bed. He stopped just at the foot. Then leaned over.

"You really remember nothing, huh? Judgin' from the way you're actin'." Kiriwar tilted his head, his eyes moving down to Akira's lower body. In one quick motion, he grabbed Akira's waist and shortened the distance between the two of them.

"Nothing. At all."

He stared directly into Akira's eyes, his tone no longer playful, and his grin nonexistent. Akira didn't dare move, although the Executioner's close vicinity wasn't all that welcome. Then suddenly, the grip on his waist turned into jabs at his sides.

"Hey–" He stifled his own voice immediately, having been taken aback at the sudden interruption of the tense atmosphere.

"So you really are ticklish, 'Kira ~!" Kiriwar didn't let up, mercilessly attacking the sensitive sides of his torso.

"Let go!"

He wriggled away as best as he could, but the Executioner followed, moving one knee onto the bed, laughing throughout the entire torture session. Akira couldn't help it. It was reflex. Out of the reach of voluntary reaction, he broke into shortened breaths.

"Quit it already!" Which broke into stifled laughter. "Haha– Kiriwar!"

Immediately, the Executioner stopped. And Akira finally let out a sigh of relief, his back now back on the bed once again and his hands firmly gripping Kiriwar's wrists. Sweet release. He opened his eyes, only to see that the man above him was no longer grinning. Unsettled again, by the Executioner's impulsive nature, he shifted, awaiting some kind of decipherable reaction. He didn't have to wait long. Kiriwar laughed.

"No way, haha~ …I had no idea you could laugh, 'Kira."

Without letting him breathe, the Executioner suddenly moved his hands to Akira's hair, roughly ruffling it up.

"Hey–"

"You're real damn cute, aren't ya, 'Kira?"

There was no way he could just take that comment sitting down. The Executioner was acting strange, weirdly… affectionate… in some way. If it could even be described that way. Akira didn't linger on the thought too long. A jacket was thrown at him. A gray one almost similar in style to his previous one, he noticed.

"Dress up. We're goin' out." Kiriwar grabbed his green jacket off the dresser, promptly sliding it on.

"Huh?" Akira started, not sure if he'd heard those words correctly. "Going… out?"

"Yeah."

Kiriwar was already reaching for the iron pipe leaning against the wall.

"You're comin' with me." He confirmed. "Don't want to be stayin' in all day, do ya?"

Akira hesitated. It was true that he wasn't keen on being locked in for hours at a time, especially now that he was recovering from his initial injuries, but this turn of events was entirely unexpected. There was no reason he could come up with as to why the Executioner would be interested in letting him out. There was no end to the mixed signals he was receiving. From the beginning, the Executioners were very dangerous, the ones to avoid if he wanted to stay alive. This was only further proven when he'd been locked down in that street. But now, Kiriwar's intent didn't seem to be to hurt him. In fact, even the fact that he was still alive at this point was very lucky. If there were any reason to be tossed around in confusion like this, it would likely be just because the Executioner was doing as he pleased. At any moment, even at this point, it wouldn't surprise him too much to see Kiriwar turn around and rip an arm off his pet's body, just on some sadistic whim. It wouldn't be smart to become too comfortable. The Executioners had made it clear before that they weren't trustworthy figures.

"Up, 'Kira." Kiriwar prompted, expectant.

There was no point in challenging the command.

Akira soon found himself walking down the hall towards the main entrance of the mansion. He recognized the overtly prestigious decor of the large room right at the front of the door. Right on the Executioner's heels, he followed as Kiriwar pushed open those huge double doors, and the comparatively bright light on the other side almost tricked him into thinking it was a bright day. It had been a while since he'd set foot outside of the mansion.

On either side of those door stood two guards, one of whom he recalled as the person who brought him to Arbitro the night before. He was almost tempted to nod or acknowledge him in some way – but did nothing. On the other hand, he detected the smallest hint of surprise in the guard's eyes. It must have been an interesting surprise, to see the Executioner's personal prisoner be led outside.

"Jiijii. You're finally here!"

The sound of that rough voice snapped Akira's attention back to reality.

"Yeah. Late, I know." Kiriwar answered his partner.

They were going on patrol. And Akira was coming with them. Where he stood, it was slightly behind Kiriwar's towering figure, so it took the other Executioner a moment longer to realize a third presence was there.

"Huh?" Gunji's tone suddenly changed, and he leaned slightly to the side to peek around his partner. A grin spread onto his face. "Aha… hey there, Kitty~"

Akira stepped out to the side, allowing the other Executioner to see him without obstruction. Obviously pleased, Gunji's grin widened.

"Ya taggin' along with us today, Kitty?"

"Yeah." Akira answered, keeping their eye contact steady.

Gunji straightened, seemingly up for more conversation, but before he could speak, his partner cut it off.

"Weren't you complainin' 'bout my tardiness before? Get goin' now."

"Yeah. Whatever, Jiijii." Gunji retorted, though his eyes were still locked onto Akira.

Kiriwar stood as a physical barrier between the two of them. Akira couldn't say that he wasn't grateful for the subtle stance. The blond Executioner led the way out of the gated property. For a moment, Akira turned back to see himself leaving the mansion. It was, not too long ago, a sight he didn't think he would be seeing for a while. So sudden. Like a lead around his neck was being loosened. He wasn't going to discourage his keeper from allowing him this greater degree of freedom. Soon, however, if Arbitro's words were to be trusted, he was going to escape this cage completely.

The metal gate creaked then shut and locked behind them.

As they walked the streets, he found the Executioners' pace to be a bit too fast to be comfortable. It was likely due to the difference in their heights and physicalities. Not only were their gaits much longer than his, but they walked with much more ease than he did. He found it somewhat frustrating, trying to keep up. It didn't go unnoticed.

Kiriwar turned his head to look back at the slightly struggling Akira.

"Oh. My bad, 'Kira. We goin' too fast for you?" He grinned.

Even Gunji had his own words.

"'Kira?" The blonde's eyes caught Akira's.

Without a second thought, Akira corrected him. "Akira."

He immediately latched onto the name. "Akira! So that's your name, huh?"

Kiriwar's face seemed to sour at Gunji's exclamation.

"Akira. Akira. Akira. Aki–"

An iron pipe tapped onto the Executioner's head hard enough to smart.

"Hey! Jiijii, the hell was that for?" Gunji dropped down, hand to temple. His eyes moved back and forth between him and Akira. Then a mischievous smile pulled at the side of his mouth. "Ain't like you're the only one allowed to say 'Kira's name."

Kiriwar ignored the comment and began picking up the pace again, much to Akira's dismay. Gunji simply laughed, following closely at his partner's heels. At this point in the patrol, they were now moving from the sparse parts of the city to the more populated areas. When they hit their first crowd, Akira's nerves began slowly moving to the edge. Even though he had the Executioners at his side, there was no telling what other participants might think of the situation. A low voice snapped him out of his nervousness.

"Ladies first." Kiriwar tilted his chin to the front.

"Hm." Even Gunji turned his body aside, making room for Akira.

A subtle touch on his back nudged him forward. He figured that the sudden change in their pace might be because Kiriwar wanted to keep an eye on him – most likely to keep him from running off. Still, it wasn't likely he'd get anywhere if he tried to run. Didn't they both know that? It wasn't difficult to recall the last time he'd attempted an escape. He stayed only a few paces ahead of them, just to assure Kiriwar.

Only now did the other crowds notice the presence of the Executioners. Mixed conversation died down enough to be noticeable. No doubt each person tried not to draw attention to himself. Even before he was forced into the mansion, he knew that there was little to no chance of coming out unscathed if you caught the attention of Igura's enforcers. Until this point, his own presence beside the Executioners had gone unnoticed, but now, others were beginning to pick up on the sight of him. Their curiosity was tangible. And uncomfortable. He now was questioning why he went out on this patrol in the first place. This taste of freedom was hardly sweet enough to counter his nervousness. But he knew that as long as the Executioners stood beside him, there was no chance anything adverse would occur.

"Damn quiet today, ain't it, brat?"

"Yeah. Wonder why." His eyes turned, pointedly, to Akira. "Ain't gonna be much fun if no rulebreakers show up."

Kiriwar retorted back. "Only 'cause you don't drag the bodies back."

Gunji laughed. "Must be happy then, huh, Jiijii? There ain't even been any dead bodies on the streets."

"Let's keep it that way." Kiriwar said under his breath.

"Sure."

As they continued to patrol the streets, not a single soul spoke anything of Akira's extra presence. Everyone simply watched, out of the corners of their eyes. Apart from this unnerving detail, the patrol just seemed long and tedious. Having to do this everyday, it was no wonder the already mental Executioners were the way they were. Seeking out ways to relieve their boredom. He didn't agree with their extreme tendencies, but it wasn't hard to make the jump in logic. After all, they already were crazy.

There was the occasional blood stain and abandoned weapon, but even for a newcomer, Akira knew that this was calm for Toshima. Although the Executioners were most infamous for their brutality, he was aware of their roles in Igura. One of them was clearing the streets of dead bodies, amongst others. Toshima would be a mass grave if it weren't for them.

"Must've been a damn quiet night." Kiriwar spoke.

"Boooring." Gunji declared.

"Are you disappointed?" The words came out before Akira could think twice.

This caught the attention of both of the Executioners. A nervewracking cease in conversation followed. Even though they walked slightly behind him, from his peripheral vision, he could see the subtle changes in their expressions.

"Uh… yeah." It was Gunji who first responded. "It ain't exciting when you walk around with nothin' to do."

Akira turned his head to neither of the Executioners, keeping his eyes straight ahead onto the nearly vacant street, but he was also intimidated by Kiriwar's gaze. _At least say something._ Anyways, at this point, he had nothing to lose. He was curious about a few things, about the inhabitants of the mansion in which he was imprisoned.

"So it isn't exciting." He repeated, without skipping a beat.

"Yeah."

Was he out of his mind? Bold, uncensored thought was dangerous, especially to mental cases like this guy. But he couldn't stop, delivering a final blow.

"By your definition then, people would have had to die. To make your day more interesting." He spoke, turning his eyes onto the blond man on his left. "Is that interesting to you?"

Gunji stopped in his tracks. Instinctively, so did Akira, and without a word, so did Kiriwar. His limbs locked him in place, fear of his own brash words having finally set in. But the Executioner wasn't raising his hands to lash out at him. Rather. A grin spread across Gunji's sharp face.

He was laughing.

The blond Executioner doubled over in seemingly uncontrollable hysteria. Then suddenly, he stopped, wiping the back of his forearm over his mouth and straightening up again. That same hysterical expression, although somewhat more muted, remained.

"That's right. It's exciting." He declared as if it were obvious. "I mean, what else is there to do in this city? It's the job. Might as well have fun while at it."

He tilted his head, now anticipating Akira's reaction. That was new. The Executioners couldn't care less for the thoughts of others. But Akira didn't say anything, frozen by the shock that he received a genuine answer for his question. On the outside, he simply kept his unchanging composure.

Gunji narrowed his eyes in amusement, his voice dropping to a low purr. "Heh. Well, aren't you interesting?"

Before Akira could step backwards, the blond took a blow to the back of his head.

"Gah! What the hell, Jiijii?"

Somehow, Akira had almost forgotten about the presence of the other Executioner.

"Shut up already, brat. You sure like to run your mouth. Let's get goin' already."

Gunji rubbed the nape of his neck in complaint. "I swear, Jiijii, you're gonna knock me out for good one day."

Kiriwar clanked the iron pipe onto the pavement. "Like you'd lose brain cells you don't have."

"That sure is cold, Jiijii." Gunji laughed. "…Ah. I drooled."

His words were directed at his partner, but Akira felt the attention on him.

"Well, whatever~" Gunji started walking again. "You wanna get goin' now, right?"

Something was different now. There was something else other than insanity in those brown eyes now. Something more dangerous.

Interest.

Akira snapped out of his thoughts at a nudge to his side.

"Come on." Then, Kiriwar too began walking ahead.

"…Yeah." After a brief moment of registration, he conceded.

When he caught up, just at Kiriwar's back, he heard a quieter voice.

"I'll make you somethin' when we get back… Akira."

There wasn't a single body to be found that day.

* * *

Akira sat on the counter, eating scrambled eggs off a plate he held. Kiriwar stood before the stove, trying his best with another set of egg and rice on a pan.

"Fuck." He cursed, as the cooked egg broke midway roll. "How the hell d'ya make omurice?"

Akira shrugged, although he knew Kiriwar couldn't see him from behind. "I've still got room for more scrambled eggs."

"You sure 'bout that, 'Kira?" Kiriwar laughed under his breath then turn to look back. "'Cause m'pretty sure you're 'bout to burst."

"Hm." Akira took another bite. He had no energy in him to antagonize the Executioner.

In response, Kiriwar turned off the stove and pulled the pan into the cooler air. Just off to the side, with his other hand, he pulled a spoon out of a drawer. He turned his body to lean against the counter and began eating out of the pan.

"It's not bad." He observed.

"Yeah."

It really wasn't. Still, he was no picky eater. Objectively speaking, this dish was far more delicious than solids, but he was so used to solids that he preferred them over anything else. The cheap price and availability also played a large part in it though.

He and Kiriwar sat just across from each other. Only too aware of Kiriwar's eyes, rather than acknowledge that attention, he busied himself with finishing his own dish. He nearly jumped at the sound of the pan meeting the kitchen sink.

"Want somethin' to drink, 'Kira?" Kiriwar asked.

"Uh. Sure."

Kiriwar paced over to the fridge. Akira felt the cold breeze even from where he sat.

"Up for juice or what?"

Juice. That was a luxury find in the CFC.

"Juice is okay."

When he didn't specify any kind of juice, Kiriwar took out his own selection. Orange juice. He walked back towards the sink and pulled out two glasses with his other hand. He poured out the juice and handed one glass to Akira. With a soft thunk, he set the carton onto the counter.

When he noticed Akira was still staring at the cup, he urged him to try it. "Go 'head, 'Kira."

Akira took a sip.

"It's sweet."

"Yeah." Kiriwar took his own sip. "Juice's usually like that. Sweet."

Sure. It wasn't bad at all. Akira took another tentative sip, feeling the sweetness fill the inside of his mouth. So this was what orange tasted like. It was really good actually. Different.

"Don't tell me." There was a laugh in Kiriwar's voice.

Akira looked up.

"Ain't you ever tasted juice before?"

At those words, Akira's face turned sour. "Yeah. Of course."

"I dunno, 'Kira." Kiriwar continued, a grin on his face, still holding his cup up to his face. "That expression on your face's tellin' me somethin' else. If it ain't the juice… this is the first time you ever tried orange."

Akira knew for himself that when he turned his head aside, it was a tell-tale reaction.

"I knew it. Haha." Triumph spread across Kiriwar's face. "So how is it? Orange."

"…Pretty good." Akira answered. "Sweet. And a little sour."

"Yeah." Kiriwar nodded and took a sip, smiling eyes still on Akira. "That's orange for ya."

He shifted his position against the counter, standing a bit more upright. The distance between them shortened. The glass clinked against marble surface when he set it down, and now he stepped forward until he was only too close. A hand closed over the Akira's, the one holding the glass, then pulled it aside and down onto the counter.

"The hell were you thinkin' earlier?"

…?

Akira waited for the Executioner to elaborate. And he did.

"Challenging the brat like that. Seriously... You ain't a druggie, so are you just an idiot?"

Oh.

"I was curious."

"Huh?"

Actually, he himself wasn't sure why he asked in the first place. He already knew of Executioner's questionable sanity, yet he was tempted to challenge that. Something Gunji said pissed him off. His eyes refocused on Kiriwar, meeting his gaze evenly. And he relaxed. He realized just then. That there was nothing to be afraid of in those eyes.

So he answered with that question with honesty.

"I was… curious. About how he has fun, knowing of the deaths of other people." He said, doubtful that this Executioner was a person who could understand. "Brutality. Violence. Killing. He enjoys it."

Kiriwar slowly blinked, but otherwise was completely still. Akira suddenly became very aware that their hands were still touching, closed together around an empty glass. Then, the Executioner placed his other hand on the counter, keeping the slighter guy there.

"Do you think I enjoy it?"

It suddenly became harder to breathe. They were too close for comfort. Still, Akira made no move to escape, unsure of what the Executioner was thinking. But he could tell there was no intention of intimidation in those actions.

"I don't know." Akira finally said. He tilted his head upward to meet the challenge. "Do you?"

At that, Kiriwar leaned in closer, only leaving a few centimeters between their noses.

"Huh… I wonder."

In the next moment, Akira closed his eyes to the warmth that met his lips. Kiriwar closed the distance with a kiss. Hints of the Executioner's intentions running in the back of his mind came to the forefront. He wondered if he somehow knew this was coming, yet he made no move to stop it. In fact–

The hand closed over his around the glass released it, and that rough, calloused palm shifted to his cheek. Kiriwar tilted his head, taking in a deeper breath, moving his lips against Akira's.

– He was okay with it.

More than a few seconds had passed now. Why was he allowing this to happen? The sensation on his lips were nice actually, calming him down, yet at the same time, his heart was pounding out of his chest. And the kiss tasted… sweet? It must be the orange juice.

He let go of the empty glass, instead closing his hand around Kiriwar's forearm. He felt the slightest of a jolt when he did so. That was unexpected. But in response, Kiriwar's other hand slid over his, the one supporting him on the counter. The Executioner broke the kiss for a moment, then moved in even closer, leaning down to press his mouth to Akira's jaw then down to the side of his neck.

Wasn't this starting to go too far? Akira flinched, snapping back into his mind.

And Kiriwar stopped. He stilled at that reaction, then backed off, straightening up and moving his hands away. He blinked, studying Akira's eyes, before breaking that contact too. Suddenly, he reached for the empty glass and plate on the counter and turned away to bring them to the sink.

"I'll wash the dishes real quick, then we can tuck in for the night."

Akira's confusion only grew. Was the infamous Executioner really acting this way now?

* * *

It felt a bit awkward now. Yet strangely, Akira now felt little reservation towards him.

Kiriwar wasn't dangerous. It was clear. In fact, Akira had the capability of realizing that there may be some advantage in this undefinable closeness to the Executioner. He wasn't above planning an escape this way. If he went with the flow, then maybe…

He watched Kiriwar's back as they walked back to the room, trailing closer than usual. He kept a close watch on any kind of reaction. So far he seemed just like usual.

When Akira took to the bed, he noticed Kiriwar keeping a good distance away. Was it to be respectful of his distance, or was it out the weird atmosphere that remained since just earlier?

This was a chance.

Akira forced down his hesitation.

He moved closer to the Executioner. Kiriwar must have noticed the movement, but he stayed still until he felt contact, tensing up in surprise. He turned his head to look down at Akira, who tightened his hold around his torso. He was at a loss of words. And although it didn't appear so, Akira's nerves were just as shot. He felt Kiriwar's heartbeat begin to accelerate. So he was right after all. A simple action like this was enough to sway the Executioner.

Either way, he was exhausted. He closed his eyes and moved closer. Taking off the edge of his nervous attempt at manipulation by imagining a pillow. Not like the Executioner's rough body remotely felt like one.

"I don't mind." Akira let out a long breath.

As his mind slowly drifted off to sleep, he barely registered a quiet laugh.

"…Is that so?"

The pillow shifted, wrapping warm arms around him, returning the embrace.


End file.
